


Straight Outta Kinky

by shoesoftennis



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, I hate/love that title, M/M, Past HunAus, Slight Germancest, slightly nsfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 16:32:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4753250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoesoftennis/pseuds/shoesoftennis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gilbert invites Elizabeta to see him dance at a strip club. Then... things get a bit tense... (Yeah, I suck at summaries...)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Straight Outta Kinky

Elizabeta Herdervary admired the plush seat of the booth. No obvious stains or rips permeated the fabric of the seat, and her body sank into it without a hindrance. A lime margarita with sugar around the rim sat patiently on the table, the stem of the glass coated in visible sweat residue.

            Elizabeta wiped her hands on her legs, hoping Gilbert Beilschmidt wasn’t peeking through the curtains on the stage in front of her without her knowledge. She despised him knowing she had any weaknesses – however temporary they might be. Her independent nature butted heads with his stubborn-as-a-bull personality, and the two wouldn’t give the other the satisfaction of knowing they both had breaking points and flaws. They wanted to be perfect in each other’s eyes, and they fought for that title in many ways.

            But Elizabeta couldn’t review those ways now. Her mind stumbled and tripped along its process of figuring out exactly _why_ she had accepted Gilbert’s invitation to the strip club currently boxing her in on all sides. She felt like she was going to explode from embarrassment. What if someone saw her here? What if _Roderich_ saw her here? He’d give her a stern, disappointed talking-to… But wait. If he _did_ come here, he’d have to explain himself, too. What would a piano-playing gentleman like him want with a seedy (yet oddly comfortable) strip club where Gilbert and his little brother were going to perform? Of course, this was a one-night gig because the owner of the Gakugen Club had needed two dancers on the spot after two strippers (they were brothers like Gilbert and Ludwig Beilschmidt) had been fired due to the older one’s obnoxiously rude personality. Elizabeta really couldn’t blame the owner; people who didn’t watch their mouths were more trouble than they were worth. Then again, Gilbert didn’t ever shut up, and Elizabeta liked him. But he still didn’t seem _quite_ worth her time even with his redeeming qualities.

            With shaking fingers, Elizabeta wrapped her hand around the stem of the margarita glass and held it up to her mouth. A trickle slid down her bottom lip, her chin, and then onto the neckline of her dress, adding a dark stain to the screaming red satin. Elizabeta swore under her breath and tried to dab it up with the napkins from the middle of the table, her heartbeat quickening.

            Really, what _was_ she doing here? This felt morally wrong, and after the spillage, she wondered if God was telling her to step away before something else bad happened. _Honestly, this is ridiculous!_ she thought to herself, crossing her arms over her chest. Her nose turned up haughtily, a habit she had picked up from her dear ex-husband Roderich Edelstein. _I’ve ruined my dress already! People will see when they walk in front of the booth and whisper amongst themselves about the girl who’s so nervous she can’t even drink her margarita!_

Groaning inaudibly, Elizabeta sank lower into the sleek cushion of the booth, the squeaking sound of vinyl against her dress made her feel a bit more normal. She could almost imagine herself in a regular restaurant, just waiting patiently for her food. Gilbert would be sitting across from her, relaying a story to her and accidentally knocking over a ketchup bottle with his crazy hand movements… Wait, why did _Gilbert_ have to be in her daydream? He had brought her into this embarrassing mess, and he would pay for making her a pile of fidgeting, perverted goo. She wished she hadn’t walked here, hadn’t gone here in the first place.

            Suddenly, the lights dimmed, and an obedient hush fell over the patrons of the club. Elizabeta looked around, apprehensive and mournfully excited. She wanted to be here, but it seemed too _wrong_. And not even the good kind of wrong like eating three slices of chocolate cake or dominating your now ex-husband with butt plugs and rope.

            Elizabeta prayed she wasn’t about to see what she thought she was. Maybe, instead of Gilbert and Ludwig dancing up on each other, there would be a bunch of children singing “It’s A Small World After All” from that really annoying kids’ ride at Disney World. (Elizabeta had only been once, but she remembered that ride and the chanting, stereotyped dolls that burned holes in her brain.)

            But as much as she wished and hoped for it to all be some kind of sick nightmare, Gilbert still sauntered out in a provocative, lace-and-leather bodice, fishnets, and knee-high leather boots. He wore a bunny ear headband that flopped about as he strutted across the stage to the brass pole shining under an intense, fuchsia spotlight. His white skin reflected the overpowering hue iridescently and made Elizabeta stare, transfixed.

            Gilbert didn’t make eye contact with her (she was sure he was ignoring her) and wrapped the crevice behind his knee around the pole, his panty-dropping smirk displayed broadly to the anticipating crowd of onlookers.

            Elizabeta wanted to cover the blush that bloomed traitorously onto her face.

            She watched as Ludwig came out – less confidently than Gilbert obviously. He was shirtless with only a waiter’s apron tied around his waist, his taut butt cheeks free for eeveryone to see if he angled himself a bit more toward the audience. Elizabeta just blinked at the sight of his muscled abdomen, muscled arms, muscled legs, muscled… everything. The boy was _pure_ meat and tendons and ligaments.

            Gilbert swung himself in a slow, sultry circle around the bright-pink brass pole. He was pretty beefed-up like Ludwig but more wiry and lean.

            When Gilbert finished his three hundred sixty degree circle, Ludwig slid one pale hand up Gil’s chest. Ludwig’s hips swirled just behind his brother’s, so they just barely brushed each other from time to time.

            Gilbert’s hips gyrated along the tense air between Ludwig’s and his own body, his back arching as Ludwig’s other hand slid down his inner thigh.

            Elizabeta found her hand gripping the table with white knuckles when she looked down, and her nipples perked from the built-in bra inside the dress. What the hell was this stupid performance _doing_ to her?! God, she was such a damn pervert…

            Without warning, Ludwig’s hand jumped to Gilbert’s crotch, and he pressed Gil into the pole, pulling down the fishnets to the root of his older brother’s cock.

            Elizabeta watched with wet panties – and in fascination and horror – as Gilbert wrapped himself around the pole again and bent over backward until he was eye-level with _Ludwig’s_ barely-covered dick. He flicked the apron up, and Elizabeta actually caught a glimpse of Ludwig’s nether parts before the apron settled down again.

            The song ended with Gilbert’s bodice thrown onto the stage floor and Ludwig’s apron untied, only held up by the friction as the two brothers ground against each other.

            Uproarious applause accompanied the duo’s walk-off stage; applause that did not come from Elizabeta. She simply stared after them and was acutely aware of sticky wetness covering her underwear. She couldn’t believe she was such a sick pervert!

            Standing up with every intention in mind of going straight to the bathroom and cleaning herself up, she sat right back down when she saw Ludwig and Gilbert heading her way. They weren’t even wearing disguises, just normal clothes. Everyone stared. Ludwig kept his head down shamefully. Gilbert smirked.

            When the older of the two brothers slipped into the booth, Gilbert said, “So, Eliza, how’d you like it~?”

            Elizabeta ignored him (though she did hear him and blushed) and turned to Ludwig. “Are you all right, Luddy?” she asked quietly. “You did very well up there…” She wasn’t sure what to say.

            “I only did this because Gilbert said it would pay well,” he murmured, knitting his own hands together on top of the table. He directed an impatient glare at Gilbert.

            The albino raised his hands in surrender. “It’ll pay, Luddy,” said Gilbert, “in time. ‘Good things come to those who wait’ and shit.”

            Ludwig sighed in resignation and covered his face with his hands in earnest, persevering embarrassment. “I cannot believe I let you talk me into something so degrading,” Ludwig said quietly, his voice a low, pissed-off rumble.

            Gilbert laughed – it was as obnoxious and mocking as usual. “Oh, come _on_ , brother!” said Gilbert. “You needed to let loose for a few minutes, and you’re a pretty good dancer. At least people seem to think so~”

            When his brother said that, Ludwig’s blush worsened, and a vein popped out on his forehead. “These people here are not one’s I would like to judge me or my dancing skills,” snapped Ludwig. He rubbed a hand down his face and groaned in disgust at himself. “Really, I want sixty percent of that money to compensate for my wounded image.”

            Gilbert let loose another guffaw and smacked the table with the palm of his hand. “You drive a hard deal, brother, but okay!” he said, still chuckling. He ran a hand through his silver hair, then gave Elizabeta a seductive smirk. “You never answered my question, Elizzy~”

            “I didn’t want to,” Elizabeta said. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked away, knowing her cheeks were heating up. Honestly, why did he have to look so damn cute even after _stripping and pole-dancing_? He shouldn’t look cute. No, he should look disgusting and stupid and weird and like a freak… That idiot just did this for a quick buck, though. It wasn’t like he had done this out of necessity, so at least Elizabeta didn’t have to add “desperate” to the list. Why was she suddenly thinking of the good side of things?! _I suppose it’s just my nature,_ she thought, sighing inwardly. _But I sometimes wish it wasn’t._

“Come on, Eliza,” Gilbert groaned, “don’t act like Luddy!”

            “I have a right to act this way,” said Ludwig. “Please, brother, never ask me to do anything like this again.” He stood up and fixed his jacket before walking out the door, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.

            Elizabeta watched him go, thinking the entire time, _Don’t leave me alone with Gil…_

Gilbert snorted. “That was dramatic,” he mumbled, reaching for a napkin. Once he got it, he started ripping it to pieces – a nervous tic he’d developed over the last fifty years.

            “How did you convince him at first, anyway?” Elizabeta asked quietly. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she regretted asking the moment it came out of her mouth. Had Gilbert blackmailed his own brother? Because Elizabeta felt he was beneath that mark.

            Chuckling wryly, Gilbert gave her a half-hearted smirk. “I told him to get in the car and ‘forgot’ to tell him where we were going,” he said, piling the napkin bits into a pile in front of him.

            Elizabeta hung her head and rubbed her temples. “Gilbert,” she breathed, wondering why she even bothered talking to him anymore. He just ended up in these strange situations that Elizabeta never wanted to know about but knew about anyway through _some_ means or another. Not that he called her a lot (Roderich called her more than Gil did). So maybe he’d spared her from some of his more… hardcore endeavors.

            She suddenly wondered if he’d ever been to a fetish club.

            _Don’t think like that, Elizabeta!_ she berated herself, wincing at her own thoughts. _You don’t really_ want _to know the answer to that, do you?_

Did she?

            “Eliza?” A hand waved in front of her face as the world came back into focus.

            When had she zoned out?

            “H-huh?” she said. When she saw Gilbert staring concernedly at her, she jumped back, a light blush covering her cheeks. “Stop staring at me like that!”

            Gilbert rolled his eyes and sat back. “I can stare at you whatever way I want,” he said, annoyed. 

            “If I _wanted_ you to stare at me, I’d be up on that stage right now!” Elizabeta hissed, pointing a shaking finger at the stage where another stripper had begun to perform. When Elizabeta saw him, she wondered why she didn’t feel aroused in the least. _Please tell me it has nothing to do with…_ She shoved the sprouting idea out of her head.

            Elizabeta thought Gilbert would smirk and tease her about becoming a stripper, but instead, his face clouded darkly. “No,” he said firmly.

            “No what?” said Elizabeta, blinking. What was up with his face?

            “You won’t get up on that stage,” he answered, his voice quieting. “You won’t. I forbid it.”

            “You… _You…_ You _forbid_ it?!” exclaimed Elizabeta. Her jaw dropped, and a flame sputtered to life in her grass-green eyes. “Who are you? Roderich? You can’t _forbid_ me from doing anything, you idiot!”

            Gilbert’s eyes hardened, steely and pressuring. He leaned forward. Elizabeta fought he could be intimidating if he really wanted to be. “If Roderich were here, would you listen to him?” Gilbert asked dangerously.

            Elizabeta fought against the urge to shrink back in fear. “Of course not,” she hissed, her mouth twitching up in ire. “I’m not some ninny who does exactly what a man wants her to.”

            Silently, Gilbert sat back, surrendering. Then, after a moment of glaring at her, he stood up and walked over to her. “You wanna ride, Eliza? Your apartment’s near here, isn’t it? I bet you walked,” he said almost accusingly.

            Objectively, Elizabeta looked up at him. “A ride would be nice,” she said, standing up and collecting her faux-fur coat. She realized her body was a hair’s breadth away from his when she did.

            Gilbert nodded once and took her arm, leading her behind the stage. Elizabeta felt eyes peering at them the whole way.

            He pulled her out into the acerbic, winter air. It nipped at their uncovered faces, creating a rosy effect on any skin it could reach. Elizabeta shivered and drew her coat tighter around her.

            Gilbert let go of her when they reached his car and then reached into his pocket for the keys. Elizabeta’s leg bounced as it became numb. Why hadn’t she worn leggings? Honestly, how had she even _walked_ here? _Well,_ she reflected, _it was a bit warmer before night fell._

The lights of the city washed out all the stars in the frozen night sky, and the only celestial body left was a dim crescent moon squatting just over the top of a clothing store across the street. A car trundled down the street and pulled into the strip club; Elizabeta heard music pumping from the car’s speakers, and the volume trickled up her numb body like climbing vines.

            Suddenly, something hit her leg, and she turned around to see Gilbert leaning over the passenger’s seat. He gestured impatiently for her to get in.

            She slid into the car seat and fumblingly buckled herself up, her cold fingers cramping from the abrupt warmth of the car. She had zoned out again.

            Once her seat belt clicked, Gilbert hit the gas and pulled out of the parking lot. He drove down the street; he kept his eyes straight ahead. He didn’t look like he wanted to speak to her at all.

            “All right, Gilbert, why are you so angry?” Elizabeta finally asked, looking over at him.

            “Just drop it, Elizabeta” came his harsh answer.

            She knew better than to push. When someone pushed Gilbert, he pushed back even harder and wouldn’t let up until someone died. _‘It’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye,’_ she mused.

            “Fine then,” Elizabeta mumbled. She rubbed her hands together, silently wishing for a blanket.

            Gilbert glanced over at her then looked away, his mouth pressed into a thin line. He turned down the first street he came to. “You said you’ve never been to that club,” he mumbled. “Did you know it was there?”

            “Yes,” said Elizabeta. “It’s a strip club, of course I knew it was there.”

            Her friend chuckled, and he gave her a knowing smirk. “And is there a _reason_ you knew it was there~?” asked Gilbert.

            “Wh-what?!” Elizabeta exclaimed. She glared at Gilbert and pulled her wrap even tighter around her. “That is _not_ what I meant, Gil, and you know that!”

            Gilbert chuckled again. “ _Do_ I know that~?” he teased. “You’re assuming I’m smart, ‘Liza. Don’t you say I’m stupid all the time~?”

            “I don’t say that!”

            “You should listen to yourself next time you say something then!” Gilbert grinned largely as he pulled into Elizabeta’s driveway. He looked over at her and then leaned closer. He arched an eyebrow and flipped his hair. “By the way, if you ever want me to dance for you – ‘cause I know you liked it, just tell me, and I’ll be more than happy to~” He hooked a finger under her chin and licked his lips. “So happy~”

            Elizabeta smacked his hand away. “No, thank you. I’ve had enough perversion to last me for my entire life,” she said. She got out of the car and waved to Gilbert. “Thank you for the ride.”

            Gilbert hurried out of the car after her. “Ah, wait! Wait, Eliza, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you mad!” he said, accidentally tripping on a crack in the driveway.

            “You didn’t make me mad, Gilbert.” She smiled at him a little and grabbed her key from her bun. Some pieces of hair fell, tickling the back of her neck.

            “Then…” Gilbert watched her fish out her key and raised his eyebrows. She was pretty resourceful what with putting her house key in her up-do. He shook his head and continued, “Then why did you storm out?”

            “I don’t ‘storm’, Gil,” said Elizabeta. “I was afraid of you groping me, of course.” She stepped inside her house. “Goodnight, Gilbert.”

            “I wouldn’t’ve groped you!” her friend complained. He stopped the door with his hand before she closed it. A chill of freezing air permeated his thin dress shirt. “C’mon, Liz, I’m sorry… I wanted…”

            “What, Gilbert? Please, hurry, I’m cold and tired,” Elizabeta sighed in irritation. She tried to pry his hand from the door.

            Roughly, Gilbert grabbed her chin and tugged her into a hard kiss. His mouth worked on hers, massaging it furiously. He wasn’t good with words, never had been. The only way he had to explain his feelings were kisses, sexual acts, and gifts. But even now, he didn’t know what he was trying to tell Elizabeta. Did he like her? Did he love her? Was he just sexually attracted to her and wanted nothing more than sex?

            He ripped away suddenly. Elizabeta hadn’t kissed him back the entire time, and he wasted no time running down the stairs and to his car. Why had he done that? _Why?_

Elizabeta watched him drive away, her eyes wide. “Gil…” she said, then rooted through her bag again and pulled out her phone. She dialed his number and tapped her foot as it rang. _Pick up, you idiot! Idiot,_ pick up _!_

“Look! I know it was wrong to kiss you!” Gilbert ground out when he answered. He sounded like he was talking through gritted teeth.

            “Wh-what did you even mean by it?!” Elizabeta yelled through the receiver, exasperated and shocked. Her body felt stiff. “At least _warn_ me before!”

            “I know!” he shouted back. “I’m sorry!”

            “I know you’re sorry!”

            “Then forgive me!”

            “I don’t have anything to forgive you for!” Elizabeta jumped back as she herself hadn’t expected that.

            Silence pervaded on the other line for a second before Gilbert said, “What? You wanted me to kiss you?”

            “Well, I wasn’t thinking about it at that moment, but… but I suppose… I didn’t _mind_ it,” Elizabeta explained, her hands making wild gestures as she talked. “Like… I…”

            He hung up. He hung up right then and there with only these words, “I’m turning around.”

            “G-Gilbert? Gilbert?” Elizabeta said. She raced to her front door and ripped it open in time to see his car speeding back down the street at breakneck speed. She really thought he was going to overshoot the driveway and crash into the oak tree in front of her house, but he slowed down jerkily and bumped up the pavement.

            He jumped out a second later; he ran up the stairs and grabbed – literally, snatched – her by the waist and tugged her to him. His breath came in warm gusts against the winter air that stung their ears and cheeks and noses. “Can I do it again?” he asked, his voice low and breathless.

            “I… I…” stuttered Elizabeta. How was she supposed to react that quickly? Honestly, she wasn’t a warrior, anymore.

            “Just… push me away… if you don’t like it,” he said before gripping her chin and tugging her into another kiss with a sort of dark romance pervading it.

            Elizabeta tensed then strung her fingers through his silver hair and kissed back ferociously. Tongues lashed out; teeth bit. The previously cold wind became unbearably hot. Elizabeta’s nails dug into Gilbert’s scalp, and he groaned happily. “E-Eliza…” he murmured before pulling back. He released her waist from his bruising grip. “I liked that.” He waited for her response, panting.

            “I… So did I,” she breathed. Her chest heaved, and she took his elbow and hauled him inside her house. “I’m making hot chocolate.”

            Gilbert smiled jovially. “For me too~?”

            “If there’s enough chocolate.”

            “You’re the best, Eliza~”

            She turned around as she filled a chrome kettle up with water and watched as he took a seat on the kitchen counter. She smiled at him. “Yes, I know~”


End file.
